


me, who sees right through you

by cloutier



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem)-centric, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Dirty Talk, Friends to Lovers, I didn't mean for this to be horny but here we both are, Idiots in Love, M/M, Model AU, Model Dimitri, Model Sylvain, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, mentions of familial abuse and neglect, mentions of miklan - Freeform, theyre idiots and they didn't even SEE WHAT WAS IN FRONT OF THEM THE WHOLE TIME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloutier/pseuds/cloutier
Summary: Sylvain didn’t want to be known, not truly known, did he not? And yet here he is, rutting into everything that moves. Dimitri was unsure if he was being fueled by the urge to tear the opaque cloth off his chest or if he wanted to pick apart his old friend’s brain piece by piece, or if it was both, but he was sure of one thing that night.Sylvain’s breath hitched and his casual expression cracked as Dimitri slithered closer and whispered into his ear, voice dropping an octave, “A slut like you likes being watched, right? Well, you’ve got my full attention.”
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	1. An Inevitable Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags just in case there's any triggers! The abuse is all mentioned or implied and there's no smut, pretty much just the lead up to it and mentions of it.

Dimitri despised the work parties.

His job was already a fraudulent one, feeding into hopeless niceties in favor of a dense paycheck and having to actually attend to his physical appearance. There were so many negatives associated with his modeling profession and when he was ushered into a room full of people just like him—all their pleasing features and flattering shapes—Dimitri could not help but wonder what ghosts plague their own heads. God knows he has his own fair share of those.

He grasped the champagne glass with care, his single eye staring as if waiting for it to shatter, for the pain of shards piercing the flesh of his palms and scattering onto his satin dress pants—

A rosy hand slid a tiny platter before him and Dimitri turned to see a pair of familiar ladies slip into two of the empty seats around his table. He stole a spare second to glance at the seating arrangement plan once his uncle's Bentley stopped outside of the venue earlier, just so he wouldn't look like a lost puppy, but hadn't bothered to wonder who was sitting at the table alongside him. He was relieved to see Mercedes and Annette, whom he wouldn't have to force his guard up with.

"Good evening, Dimitri! Surprising to see you without your cousin!" Annette chirped, her tweed skirt sweeping around her knees as she moved to sit beside him. She's a big name with the print models in the Blue Lions Modeling Agency along with Ingrid and Ashe, their saccharine smiles and flawless faces.

The corner of Dimitri's mouth lifted, lessening the heaviness on his chest just the slightest bit. Pondering her comment, Dimitri stared into the colorless pool of water sitting in his wine glass, "Hm, I suppose we do often travel together." Mercedes giggled from across the table, smoothing out her chiffon gown and adjusting the straps around her shoulders.

Dimitri's smile vanished, wondering how uncomfortable it must feel for his female friends in the business. Insecure about the few centimeters gained around their waistlines, the dark circles and wrinkles creasing around their eyes, the stretch marks scattering their skin, their lack of a thigh gap in certain poses, if their hair grew out too long, if the camera lens can capture the ashes buried in their eyes, if his eyepatch—

"Speak of the devil!" Dimitri heard Mercedes add, and Dimitri turned to a loud thump on the table beside him, the chair aggressively drawn out and pushed back in once they'd sat down. Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

With his trademark scowl morphing his traditionally gentle features, he reached out for his own wine glass and held it up, a waiter scurrying over to fill it with one of his favorites: sagrantino wine.

He could see out of the corner of his eye, Annette, who reeled back with a visible cringe, "You must be ready to have a terrible time today." Dimitri held back a snort and took a sip of his water, personally unsure of the flavor profiles of the alcohols, but aware that this wine had a stronger proof than Felix usually reached for.

Mercedes swirled her own cup of a sweeter red wine and with a gentle smile, "Remember to drink water," to which Felix couldn't just _ignore_ as he poured himself a glass from the table's water pitcher. “I’d rather be home than at this useless event. No, actually, I’d rather be prancing around in lingerie for a shoot than here.”

Annette snorted and allowed her shoulders to slump forward, a rare moment for all of them to get a chance to relax and not have to look flawless. “You can just say you don’t like Sylvain,” she hummed, her hand shuffling through her tote bag to bring out a romance novel that Dimitri recognized as one sitting idly on his coffee table at home. A classic that fulfilled the simple stereotypes a little too easily—where the Prince Charming saves the princess—although Annette has always been fond of those thoughtless reads. Perhaps to imagine a life easier than their current.

Felix didn’t bother to deny the claim, opting for another swing of his dry wine, “Fine. I don’t like Sylvain.”

Sylvain Jose Gautier, it rang a few bells in Dimitri’s head. He’s been rising to fame as of recent and thus, his father extended him an offer to sign under the Blue Lions Agency. A jack of all trades, Sylvain possessed the bulk to fit the bill for a swimsuit or fitness shoot and a certain innocence or naïveté about his face that brought him the occasional makeup (and, what he’d heard just now: _lingerie_ ) promotional opportunities, an effortless charm that swept him from one gig to another.

How was it possible that one man could branch out to almost every kind of modeling opportunity? Being a one trick pony himself, Dimitri was intrigued by Sylvain. Everyone must be.

Though, there was one thing that Dimitri and his cousin held over everyone else regarding Sylvain. He wasn’t as much as an enigma to them, considering their parents were close friends when they were younger and by extension, so were their sons. Those days were long out of their grasp now, it was only a matter of time for the boys to grow apart when their fathers lost touch, but Dimitri’s mind still wandered back to those days.

The son of Gautier, a rowdy boy who stood proudly over them, a few inches taller than Dimitri and Felix due to his few years being born ahead of them. They spent their afternoons rolling around in the fluffy snow behind Dimitri’s backyard or ducking behind the towering redwoods in Felix’s or shivering around the fireplace at Sylvain’s.

Dimitri vividly remembered playing at his estate or Felix’s, and also a faint tingle of fear when they were brought to the Gautier estate. Sylvain’s elder brother was not friendly in any sense of the word, not even to the redhead. It was obvious that there was a favoritism toward Sylvain in the Gautier household and his elder brother expressed his bouts of jealousy through scathing insults and smashed toys, but his favorite method toward crawling under Sylvain’s skin? Marring it firsthand, with his fists and nasty words until Sylvain bled a stream of crimson, but he’d never cry. Never.

Dimitri swirled his cup of water as if it was a wine, feeling a bit silly and nostalgic from his boyish memories that were shoved in the back of his head, and wondered how Sylvain was faring today. It truly has been too long since they’ve talked and his guess was that no one else in his current life had an inkling into Sylvain’s upbringing like Dimitri and his cousin had.

"The guy signed a contract a week ago and you already hate him, huh? Very Felix of you," Annette giggled, to which he let out a sigh. He set down his glass and after a short pause, he shook his head, strangely calm, "I don't hate him.”

Even Dimitri turned to look at him with furrowed eyebrows. Felix, willingly admitting that? Perhaps he was delirious from the lights and booze. "Sylvain...I was there to listen to his interview. The one with Playboy. I don't _hate_ the guy, I'm sure he gets enough of that. He doesn't need any from me."

Felix’s words struck a chord inside him and once more, flashes of their shared childhood were thrown into the forefront of his mind. Dimitri had yet to see the rising star, not for years now, but he had a guess that today, that would change.

—

"You _just_ got signed with the Blue Lions, Sylvain! I highly suggest that you stop lying around with every woman that moves!"

The redheaded star let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back a little farther than he’d hoped and consequently disturbing the ache in his neck. That’s what he gets for sleeping on the couch, he supposed, but that photographer girl he’d brought back to his apartment yesterday was just too cute to pass up. Could you really blame the guy?

“Don’t be jealous, Ingrid! You’ll get a piece eventually,” Sylvain winked at the blonde, who glared back at him with enough hatred burning in her eyes that he knew that she wouldn’t crack. But if he persisted with the flirting...Who knows? Girls find the chase fun, don’t they?

In the shotgun seat, Ingrid huffed and turned away from Sylvain, who was sprawled out in the backseat with a mild hangover knocking at his head. He should’ve popped a painkiller before Ingrid and Dedue came knocking down his apartment door but then again, it wasn’t necessarily a cure-all for him.

He hadn’t eaten today and his stomach was screaming at him for it, as usual, and the painkillers somehow managed to agitate it even more. Sylvain learned that the hard way. And so, he decided that he’d rather deal with a killer headache and a grumbling stomach than whatever ring of hell an Advil would curse upon his already suffering digestive system.

“Sylvain, you should take this job seriously. I am aware of your history with your family but,” the red haired man felt his vision sway after hearing Dedue’s words, hands shooting out to steady himself before his head crashed into the glass window.

How was Dedue, as he says, _aware_ of his history with his family? There could be a multitude of things that he could possibly mean and no matter which one he meant, the only thing Sylvain was concerned with was that Dedue knew more about him that he needed to. Than anyone needed to. Knowing more about Sylvain—his weaknesses, his past, his _brother_ —no, Sylvain couldn’t have that. That just gave people more leeway toward controlling him, tying him down, fracturing the mirage that Sylvain had spent so long trying to maintain.

Palms suddenly sweaty, Sylvain’s eyes darted up to the rear view mirror to find that Dedue’s eyes were glued onto the road. However, the final bits of whatever he’d said were lost to him.

Blinking himself out of the dizzy spell, Sylvain gulped, “Uh yeah. Got it.” Dedue hadn’t responded so Sylvain wasn’t sure if he was convincing, but judging by the dip in his eyebrows reflecting in the rear view mirror, Sylvain guessed that he had put on a rather unsatisfactory performance.

The rest of the car ride was silent and Sylvain was actually a bit thankful for the few minutes he could take to himself to set his head right a bit before heading into the venue. Pretend like he hadn’t just laid with a faceless girl last night and reached for a half empty bottle of tequila once he awoke, drinking himself into a stupor until Ingrid and Dedue had to crash his one man party that afternoon.

Soundlessly, Sylvain’s eyes flickered to the backs of their heads. He ran over the expanse of Dedue’s back, covered in a tight fitting cashmere suit jacket, and down his arm to where his sturdy hands gripped the steering wheel. He got a bad rep in the industry, unfortunately, due to the color of his skin. Even a dunce like Sylvain could figure out that it wasn’t due to some physical imperfection or abnormality that Dedue didn’t get as many opportunities as he deserved—no, of course it was society placing some blatant discriminatory labels on him.

It’s sick how he’s desired for his skin and advertised as some exotic creature, yet behind his back, they slander him and spit on his name for the very reason they pay him. Dedue, even for the short time that Sylvain’s known him, has proven himself to be a respectful and polite man. One who picked up Sylvain when he needed it (and didn’t deserve it), taking time out of his own day to make sure Sylvain didn’t die out in a ditch somewhere. His hands gripped onto the ends of his kimono cardigan, fingers digging into the cotton long enough to crease.

Ingrid’s case wasn’t any much better either, after making a display of chopping off her hair a few months ago. After outlining a sectional for a women’s lifestyle magazine about the expectations of women, she’d proven her passion to the project through the unapproved cutting of her hair. Sylvain’s heart was in pieces when he woke up the next morning, scrolling through the comments of backlash that Ingrid was receiving for such a bold statement.

At the back of his mind was a sorrowful, yet ubiquitous thought among the people in his industry: the reaction would’ve been completely different if Ingrid were a man. If Sylvain tried a stunt like this, grew out his hair or put on a pair of heels or slathered on some lip gloss (which he already does), he would’ve received unanimous praise. Sure, there’s a few bad eggs with every harvest, but nothing compared to what Ingrid dealt with earlier in the year and continues to deal with even now.

The car slowed to a stop and when the burning lights of the city outside dimmed out and Sylvain shoved these thoughts to the back of his mind to simmer until he found his hands roaming over the curves of another faceless body or the cold glass of a bottle later in the night.

He couldn’t afford to be thinking right now, for he had a show to put on.

—

The night would march on, with or without Dimitri, and he was content with knowing this.

He kept his glass of water close and occasionally, he’d glance at the chairs around him to make sure no one stole his coworkers’ bags. Not a single party has passed for him where he hasn’t laid low and watched the festivities peacefully. He quite likes it this way.

At this hour, the party has just about reached its height. The lights blazing with life and all the familiar faces prancing about the dancefloor not too far from the dining area where he sat. The multitude colors swept over the swaying bodies, a sea of alluring faces and sculpted frames spinning until they could spin no more.

Crowds like this had always bothered Dimitri, not just because he was sorely aware of how awkward and clumsy he could be, but also because of how the ghosts that plagues his mind bent and twisted these thoughts to their favor.

His coworkers, no, _friends_ , collapsed atop one another on that grimy crater of a dancefloor. Their bodies burned like flames, buggy eyes wide and necks craning to glare him down. Their fingernails dug into his skin, cutting into him like scalpels, gouging deep into every part of his body and shoving him into the stage. His flesh bubbled from the heat and eyes stinging from the angry flares surrounding him, encircling him like a coffin until his screams—

“What’s this? A rugged looking fella like you sitting alone?”

Dimitri suddenly blinked out of his stupor, eye gazing wide at the man who had slipped into the empty seat beside him. A head of fiery red hair, dark brown smoking out the corner of his eyes and seemingly careless dabs of silver glitter pressed into his cheeks, as if raining down from his eyes like a cascade of tears.

For a second, Dimitri forgot how to breathe, his body tensing up. Some innate intuition programmed deep into him had categorized him as a threat, his thirsty gaze running down the man’s inky outfit and drinking in the deep ruby trimming around onyx fabrics. They draped around his soft skin like a whisper and with a closer look at the shimmering voile, Dimitri noticed it was translucent.

Chuckling, the man with hair like an inferno jokingly raised his arms to shield himself from Dimitri’s prying gaze, to which the blonde hurriedly glanced away at _anything else_ , suddenly finding his throat dry. “Haven’t said a word to me and already checked out the goods? Buddy, you work faster than I expected.”

Dimitri shook his head, craning his head away to stare deep into his cup of water, thankful that the dimmed lights drowning them probably didn’t reveal his flushed face. In fact, the only features that the drifting lights really showed of the red haired man was the dazzling glints of the glitter raining down his cheeks and his wind swept locks of hair like lengthy rose petals. “I apologize. I’m not one to...Do something obscene.”

The man purred, his back curling inward, and rested his chin on his hand in a lazy gesture. A hazy smirk gracing his face, he kept his full attention on Dimitri and winked, “No? Well, today can be different. What do you say?”

Dimitri turned to his _new friend_ and upon closer inspection, he felt a sudden shock freeze him in his seat. He honed in on the man’s face, caked in layers of makeup that melted into his skin under the guise of the shadowy dining room. The moles and light freckles dotting his face like stars were buried underneath a thick coat of foundation, the warmth of his chestnut eyes muted by a set of peculiarly colored contacts, and the whole idea of Sylvain’s individual expression being drowned out by a fantasy created by a designer...didn’t sit well with Dimitri, even though that was the case for everyone in this venue.

Dimitri’s been in this industry for longer than anyone else in this room and he’s known Sylvain when he was younger, he could piece together his thoughts from a mile away. He was bred and born for the camera, to flex his muscles just enough for the shadows to define his body, for his hair to sweep a certain way to frame his jawline, for his pelvis to dip enough so his abs pop and his v-line deepens.

His guess was that Sylvain wanted to charm everyone he laid his eyes on, a way for him to feel like he had more control than he wanted to realize. Considering that for the entirety that Dimitri’s ever known Sylvain, he’s always been dragged around by his negligent (and borderline abusive) father, and that’s yet to mention his elder brother.

Dimitri still remembers how damp the mood would get when Sylvain had to leave, his brother slamming the door of his car shut and speeding away before Dimitri could say goodbye. Felix and Dimitri would never mention it, but Sylvain didn’t do a very good job of covering up the bruises that his brother inflicted on him, all those years ago. Long sleeves, turtlenecks, face masks, gloves, glasses...Those accessories may cover up physical scars, but it didn’t mask the way Sylvain laughed less, the way he dipped his head down in shame, the way he sat still and stared blankly as if all of the life had been pried right out of the young boy.

Dimitri wondered if Sylvain realized who he was yet. Sylvain wasn’t the only one who changed since his younger years, Felix changed a considerable bit as well, but both of their changes combined could not even hold a candle to Dimitri.

As a young boy, Dimitri was slender, considered short for his age at the time, and his hair was styled in a straight cut bob hanging down to his chin. He bit on his nails when he was nervous and his bright eyes were timid, downcast most of the time. He cowered behind Sylvain whenever he was brought to the Gautier estate and he whimpered like a kicked puppy whenever his friends had to go home.

And now...Dimitri stood a towering 6’2” tall with a build like a Greek god from a promising many years of merciless training in the military—the same route many of the men in his family followed. Dimitri’s experience was comparably unfortunate compared to his brethren, considering he’d gained countless scars (some that even makeup couldn’t cover) and had even suffered an eye laceration. His story is a unique one that adds to his coarse charm, it chewed up his soft spoken personality and the young boy he used to be, spitting out the stony and unrefined man he was today.

“Sylvain,” Dimitri tries, watching the redhead’s eyebrows narrow. His enticing expression remained unchanged, however the subtle static in the air was unmistakable. As if Dimitri had casually announced one of Sylvain’s darkest secrets, he tensed up.

The blonde, as if seeing right through him, curled up the corner of his mouth, “I haven’t seen you in a decade and still, somehow I knew you’d be one of those types. An attention whore.” The words caught both of them off guard.

Did Dimitri think he could control him? Did he think he _knew_ him? It’s just like Dimitri said, it’s been a decade since they’ve seen each other. Did he think Sylvain was the same boy he was back then? That boy is long gone, forgotten at the bottom of a watery stone chasm that his brother shoved him into. He’d show him the Sylvain he wants, the Sylvain _everyone_ wants.

Sylvain, hoping Dimitri hadn’t noticed the miniscule, yet peeved, shift in demeanor and returned to his coy tone with a newfound flame bursting in his core, “Huh, quite an obsessive fan you are. You think you know me?” His tone was condescending, challenging, _bratty_. He sat back in the seat, throwing a leg over the other and Dimitri fought the urge to trail his eyes below Sylvain’s painted face.

Is that how Sylvain wanted it to go? Forget everything from when they were boys? The long nights huddled by the fireplace, the laughs shared in between hurls of snowballs, the daydreams of being anywhere else than where they were at the time. They held branches like they were blades and tossed around bunches of leaves like they were magic spells, screaming war cries and pretending like they were loyal knights fighting for a just cause.

And Sylvain wanted him to forget all that? Start over anew? The last silvers of normality that Dimitri still found himself clinging to when his eyes were opened wide during the cold nights, flashes of gunfire and screams making his ears ring even now.

The subtle curve of his back forced all the right features to perk outward, the slow smiles and lazy winks, the wispy caresses...Dimitri knew it. He was playing into a caricature, a character. Every time Sylvain would speak, he would filter his words and actions as if life were a play to him and of which, he was both the main character and writer.

The blonde man looked up from the table and into the sea of dancing bodies, drowning in shiny ornaments to coat the hollowness within them. Sylvain saw the scene in the same light, it was obvious in the way he faltered when Dimitri spoke his name. With that one instance, Dimitri pieced together an idea of what Sylvain desired.

“A fan, I suppose you could call me that,” Dimitri responded, his voice running huskier. Sylvain, not to be deterred from his spot in control again, purred, “Yeah? Got any favorite shoots of mine? Any poses you’d like me to recreate just for you?”

To his surprise, Dimitri did not flinch. Did not hang his head from a blush, did not shy away from Sylvain’s advances. In fact, he took a sip of his water and with a longing gaze aimed deep into Sylvain’s core, “Your shoots with Playboy are my favorite, especially those poses with the lingerie.” The redhead froze, Dimitri continuing to gaze deep into him as he continued, “I bet you liked bending over for the camera. Knowing a bunch of faceless strangers would stare at you baring your ass like a slut.”

Sylvain didn’t want to be known, not _truly known_ , did he not? And yet here he is, rutting into everything that moves. Dimitri was unsure if he was being fueled by the urge to tear the opaque cloth off his chest or if he wanted to pick apart his old friend’s brain piece by piece, or if it was both, but he was sure of one thing that night.

Sylvain’s breath hitched and his casual expression cracked as Dimitri slithered closer and whispered into his ear, voice dropping an octave, “A slut like you likes being watched, right? Well, you’ve got my full attention.”

That night, Dimitri tugged Felix off the dancefloor and into a secluded corner, shouting over the music, “I’m taking an early night. Dedue will be watching over your bags.” Felix shrugged his cousin off and lazily wished him a safe trip back home. When he returned to the dance floor, he soon noticed the apparent absence of the newest red headed model, but refused to think much of it.

At that point, everyone in the whole room knew it was a fact that Sylvain had snuck away with a new hole in tow. However, that night, the only two noted missing were Sylvain and Dimitri, and it was dismissed as a mere coincidence.


	2. A Flame To Lead You Out Of The Dark

“I think we should’ve expected to be the next collaboration project for Blue Lions. You, the face of the agency, and me, the blossoming new and handsome star—”

Dimitri’s body felt light from his usual lack of sleep, threatening to be blown away from the slightest breeze. The last thing he needed was some arrogance from his newest collaboration partner.

“Sylvain, be quiet,” Dimitri requested, his tone neither playful or angry, waiting patiently for the set designers to switch out the colored lenses in the stage lights surrounding them. Though he’d been present for the concept discussion, the models’ opinions are never taken seriously enough even if Dimitri tried. He blanked out the entire time and the only note he remembers is that this collaboration concept involves playing with colors and effects.

“You didn’t mind me talking so much last night,” Sylvain snickered. Dimitri’s eyebrows furrowed and his face suddenly felt hot, his eyes darting around to see if anyone accidentally overheard. No one turned their heads their way so hopefully they were safe.

Sylvain rolled his neck, laughing at Dimitri’s panicked reaction, taking the short break to quickly stretch in between shots. Both of them being half naked from the waist up, it was hard for Dimitri to pry his eyes off Sylvain as he bent at his waist and massaged his arms. “It’s adorable seeing you so embarrassed. Seriously, you weren’t like that at the welcoming event at all,” Sylvain winked, adding in a quick whisper, “And definitely not at our after party, if you know what I mean.”

The blonde man didn’t respond and pretended as if Sylvain had said nothing at all, watching one of the designers walk over with a long strip of black cloth. They stepped behind Dimitri and a tiny gasp left his mouth as it draped over his eyes, tied in what he guessed was a ribbon behind his head. “Wait, wait, I…” His words trailed off, the designer silent as they walked away. This was another aspect of the job that Dimitri hated. How they were treated as mannequins, not worthy to be spoken to.

Darkness enveloped his direct vision and he felt the distant ache of his lost eye return to him, corrupt thoughts beginning to harass his mind. He deserved to lose both eyes. He deserved to have died in that field. Burned to ashes with the rest of his—

The sturdy grip on his hand suddenly ceased those thoughts of Dimitri’s, identifying the warmth and light calluses as none other than Sylvain. His body eased, focusing on the radiating warmth of his partner’s palm rather than the hisses of the voices echoing in his head.

It didn’t take long for Dimitri to hear the click of the stage lamp switches being hit and he was hit by a barrage of bright azure light, creeping up the two gaps next to where the blindfold molded to his nose.

He turned his head, noticing how the colors morphed from a brilliant blue to a muddy purple, the distant edges hinting at a vivid red hue. Was Dimitri bathed in blue and Sylvain bathed in red? Perhaps he should’ve paid closer attention to the discussion.

When Dimitri felt warm hands drape carelessly against his waist and a shift to Sylvain’s relaxed stance, he realized that it was time to pose for the camera. Being completely blindfolded for a concept he had little to no idea about was definitely a challenge, but he made it work anyway.

When Sylvain slid his smooth arms around Dimitri’s neck and leaned into his chest, his breath tickling his collarbones, Dimitri met him halfway by pointing his chin up and out toward the sky, hoping the light emphasized his jawline, and pressed his waist into his partner’s body. The cloth covering their legs brushed and they remained unbothered, having felt and seen much more than this the night prior. 

Dimitri waited to hear the barrage of camera clicks and they slipped into the next pose, bodies curling around one another like ribbons. Posing with was truly a form of dancing, to be able to accurately read the movements of your partner and follow through into the next dynamic piece.

The redhead tangled his fingers around the ends of his blindfold dangling behind him, picking up some strands of his golden hair in his grip. This carnal dance came to Dimitri as naturally as breathing, the way he ducked his head into Sylvain’s neck and his lips parted, Sylvain’s musk flooding his senses.

The shoot seemed to crawl on for hours on end, the group of designers and photographers watching as Sylvain and Dimitri pressed skin to skin. Life usually felt like a blur to Dimitri, a single frame in a huge cinema wheel, but this sensual sway with Sylvain had a different air about it. 

Nonetheless, everything eventually comes to an end.

The blindfold was shed from Dimitri’s eyes and he squinted, adjusting to the artificial light illuminating the studio as the photographers packed up their cameras. Dimitri grabbed a tissue and he dabbed his forehead, heaving a sigh. He gazed down at the beige smudge, his studio foundation mixed with sweat, and rubbed off the rest of the makeup before tossing it into a garbage can.

No words were exchanged with the rest of the crew as he walked over to the changing curtain, ducking inside to grab his messenger bag and coat, when two familiar hands grabbed his arm. Sylvain yanked Dimitri inside and pressed his lips to his neck, chuckling softly, “Good job out there, partner.”

Dimitri stood tall as Sylvain pressed his body against his, a feeling that Dimitri’s been accustomed to since last night. He felt a hardness in Sylvain’s cotton pants and Dimitri snorted, “I should’ve known a whore like you couldn’t wait until we even left the studio.” The redhead tucked his nose into Dimitri’s neck and whimpered, digging his thumbs into the waistband of his black sweatpants and about to tug them down, until Dimitri gripped his hands to stop him.

“Come back to my place,” Sylvain heard him whisper into his ear, nodding impatiently as Dimitri’s rough hands gently released his grip and slid up his sides. Sylvain’s breath hitched as they traveled up to hold his cheeks and he pressed their lips together, an odd warmth tingling in Sylvain’s chest.

—

_ “...Hello?” _

Dimitri’s eye widened in surprise. It was 8 in the morning on a Sunday, and Sylvain actually picked up?

_ “Dimitri, if you’re calling me right now and you aren’t dying or something, I’m going to hang up.” _

Okay, okay, perhaps asking to be spoken to with kindness at an early hour (especially for Sylvain, who practically lives like a vampire) was too much of a tall order.

Dimitri cleared his throat, the reason why he called dawning on him. With a warmth burning his face, he clenched his fist around his phone and coughed, regretting ever calling Sylvain in the first place. To be fair, it was 8 in the morning on a  _ Sunday _ , why would any self serving person be awake? Then again, Sylvain wasn’t the most normal person out there…

_ “Alright, well, this has been a riveting conversation but—” _

“Sylvain!” Dimitri called out, desperate for him to stay on the call, “Don’t hang up!” He heard the annoyed groan from the other line and a rustle of what he assumed were bedsheets. Did Sylvain bring someone home last night? For the past week he’s only been with Dimitri and he would be lying if the thought of Sylvain lying with someone else after this week of pseudo commitment didn’t sting.

Once again, Dimitri was ashamed, and a long pause ensued as he tried to manifest some semblance of courage.

Sylvain sighed,  _ “Dimitri, are you trying to call me for a dick appointment? Because damn, 8 in the morning? Just jerk off or something! My ass has office hours I’ll have you know—” _ , and Dimitri slapped a hand over his face, feeling the burning grow down his neck.

In an attempt for Sylvain to shut up, Dimitri decided that it would serve him to be straightforward and came right out with his request, “I wanted to, erm, bake! Bake saghert and cream! With, uh, with you.” As per usual whenever Dimitri’s nervous, there’s never a stuttering quota that he can’t meet.

A pause.

_ “You wanted to bake saghert and cream with me. At 8 in the morning on a Sunday.” _

Dimitri felt a knife sink into his chest. He knew the rejection was coming and he should’ve never tried calling. Who in their right mind would—

_ “...Uh, okay. I’ll be over at your place. In like, twenty.” _

Time froze around Dimitri and he seriously questioned if his hearing had failed him just now. “Oh. Okay,” he responded, his awkwardness knowing no bounds, and Sylvain answered with,  _ “Cool, _ ” before one of them hung up.

That’s what brought the two to their current situation, standing around Dimitri’s kitchen as he pulls out the glass baking pan out of the oven. They were hit with the soft heat once the oven door was propped open and not long afterward, the pleasant scent of nutmeg and cinnamon mingling with the softened peaches melting into the pastry bed beneath it.

“I remember your mom, erm, step mom, making peach cobbler a lot. I loved it when she topped it with Noa fruit cream,” Sylvain mumbled, standing on his tippy toes to watch over Dimitri’s shoulder as he grabbed a serving spoon. He glanced at Sylvain, seemingly unbothered by the comment and asked, “Corner or center?”

It was funny that he even bothered asking, considering that Dimitri remembered his step mother always handing Sylvain the piece with the crispiest crust.

Sylvain pressed his lips together and stared at the cobbler, overwhelmed by the earthy scents of the spices mixing with the baked treat. He eyed the golden crust and mumbled, “Corner piece, thanks.” Dimitri turned away and smiled to himself, expertly spooning it onto a small plate and a second piece for himself.

Sylvain grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge, noticing how it was oddly empty for a bulky man like Dimitri and wondered if the pantry was stocked with more food, careful not to forget the bowl of blackberries. He shook the can and squirted a generous amount of cream onto both of their pastries, tossing a few blackberries on top. 

The duo stared at their dessert, surprised that they hadn’t burned the house down. Satisfied, they grabbed their plates and a spoon and sat down in Dimitri’s spacious living room.

“I don’t remember your step mom sharing the recipe with you. I mean, not since she…” Sylvain trailed off, looking up from his plate to catch Dimitri’s gaze. He didn’t seem sad per say, more like he was deep in thought. He looked up with an encouraging nod, as if urging Sylvain to continue.

He gulped, sensitive to any of the changes in Dimitri’s demeanor, not wanting to offend him. “Uh, since she...Passed away. Sorry for bringing it up,” Sylvain laughed at himself, “This is the second time I slipped up with that topic today! Dumb of me.”

The blond looked up with a genuinely confused expression and shook his head, “No, it’s in the past, I’m alright with talking about it.” He looked down at the dessert and blinked, “...It’s actually a little reassuring to me that you mentioned her. I never talk about it with Felix or my father and I suppose it’s nice to know that she’s remembered. Some people make it seem like she never really existed.”

Sylvain frowned, watching his collaboration partner spoon a peach slice into his mouth and hearing him hiss as it burnt his tongue. He chuckled, “She...She was really kind. You always seemed happy in a way I never knew when she was around.” With the atmosphere grown a bit tense, Sylvain smiled down at his serving of saghert and cream, “and she was amazing at baking.”

Dimitri nodded quietly in agreement and Sylvain felt the urge to continue talking, “You know, even though she wasn’t your biological mother, I believe you took after her a lot.” Dimitri shook his head and laughed as if Sylvain made a joke, “Come now, Sylvain, you can’t be serious.”

The redhead shook his head, words genuine, “No, seriously. She was headstrong and knew when to stand up for herself and especially if it was for someone she cared for.” Dimitri looked up, his laughter washed away by the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

Sylvain stared at him, reaching out to rest his hand on Dimitri’s knee to get his point across, “She was selfless and reached a hand out to those who needed them, regardless of whether they deserved it or not.” He felt a pang in his chest and ignored it, continuing, “There’s so much of her reflected in you Dimitri. I know we haven’t spoken for a while and we aren’t exactly the same as before, but even now, there’s so much good in you. You were dealt a bad hand in life and I wish it were different and—”

He froze up, mouth going slack when he saw the glint of tears slip down Dimitri’s cheek. Sylvain gulped, shooting up from the couch and reached out his free hand to wipe it away, “Oh shit, sorry Dimitri, I didn’t mean to ramble on like that! I—”

There was a squeezing around Dimitri’s heart, a familiar ache that he hadn’t felt in a while. He was so caught up with the ghosts that plague his head and the nights where his eyes wouldn’t even shut, that he’d forgotten about his step mother.

Dimitri was not an ugly crier—he was barely a crier in general. The tears fell down his cheeks and he felt as if he couldn’t move, the pain in his chest shooting up to his throat like he was suffocating.

Sylvain, in a frenzy, grabbed a nearby cup of water and begged, “Dimitri, hey! Are you okay? Listen to me, what do you feel? Dimitri!” His heart was beating out of his chest as he stared, shaking Dimitri by the shoulders and begging for a response. The blonde man was shaking and he set down his plate, beginning to shake his head, “No, no...Not now, Sylvain, you should leave, I don’t want you to see—”

Panicking, Sylvain laid Dimitri onto the couch and wrapped his arms around him as if shielding him from the tremors and pain. “Leave you? What—Dimitri, no, I have to make sure you’re okay!” Body stiff, Dimitri’s arms shook like he was cold and Sylvain pressed his body closer, hoping that he was helping even the slightest bit. 

No matter how many pleas left the blonde man’s mouth, the way his body slowly but surely grew limp and his muscles released tension was unmistakable. Sylvain ran his fingers through his hair and listened to his panting slow to a normal breathing pattern, praying to any god above that would listen.

After a few minutes, the world seemed to slow and go silent around them. Dimitri, ashamed, ducked his chin down and his eye couldn’t meet Sylvain’s. The redhead chuckled gently, running his hand through Dimitri’s golden strands, “Still the timid little boy from before, aren’t you?”

He sighed, loathe to admit that perhaps he still reflected a lot of traits he had when he was younger. However if that was true, then the same must apply toward Sylvain as well. If he wasn’t feeling so emotionally exhausted, he would’ve teased him.

“...You didn’t have to stay with me. I’ve gone through these attacks myself, plenty of times,” Dimitri frowned, but Sylvain shook his head. “You don’t have to go through them alone.”

Sylvain spent the next few days texting Dimitri—checking up on his panic attacks, asking his opinion on dumb topics that sprung up in his brain ever so often, and everything inbetween. He was beyond cheerful to notice that Dimitri didn’t seem to shun his advances toward talking more.

When Sylvain would send him a photo of himself in a suggestive pose, he’d respond with an excitedness that he appreciated. When Dimitri would send him a random fact about edible plants late at night, Sylvain would laugh and hope his bout of insomnia would pass soon that night. 

The biggest surprise that Sylvain received after beginning to regularly text Dimitri more was a perplexing text message saying,  _ “Greetings, Sylvain. Please check outside your door.”  _ And yes, of course Dimitri messaged people with correct grammar and punctuation.

The request was sudden and startling but Sylvain followed through anyway, opening his apartment door to find a small package lying on the welcome mat. He blinked down at it and tore the package open, finding a small velvet box inside and a card.

Sylvain felt his heartbeat grow hasty at the sight of the box, smoothly flipping the lid open to find a silver ring, triangularly cut sapphires embedded in the pattern of a flower. The intricate linework made Sylvain gasp in awe, gently pulling the ring out of the box and seeing that a silver chain rang through it, made to wear as a necklace.

Sylvain reached for the card and the wind was knocked out of him at the gold trimming lining the parchment. The flawless cursive script read, in Dimitri’s finest handwriting,  _ “Father told me to save this for someone special, someone I care deeply about.” _

—

“Sitting down with us today is the jewel of the Blue Lion Agency, a new face but not one to be taken lightly: Sylvain Jose Gautier!”

The red haired man swept through the red curtains and shook the host’s hand, taking a seat opposite him on the plush maroon seats. “Thanks for having me, Seteth,” Sylvain shot the camera his classic wink and he surveyed the live studio room, waving to the audience for a short second.

When the cheers died down, Seteth gave a tired smile, “I should’ve expected, er,  _ screams _ in the crowd along with the cheers. You are the rising star this year after all.” Sylvain smiled, wondering if his blush would shine through the light coat of foundation smeared onto his face.

“Let’s not waste any time here. Your first project was a collaboration with the face of your agency, Dimitri Alexandre Blaidydd, correct?” Sylvain gulped at Seteth’s impartial tone. He knew how to steer interviews like the back of his hand but he’d never encountered a talk show host who spoke like an interrogator. He supposed that there was a first time for everything.

Sylvain nodded, “That Dimitri, a great guy! Wouldn’t have it any other way, Seteth.” The host nodded, eyes squinting as he locked gazes with Sylvain’s lazy one. He wondered if anyone in the crowd or watching live could tell that he was shaking the tiniest bit.

“Great guy Dimitri, yes. I hear you two have a history together? One involving Felix Hugo Fraldrius, of the same agency?” At the host’s words, Sylvain’s eyebrows shot upward and he froze up. He got too comfortable in his new job, didn’t he? If he didn’t phrase his answer carefully, then, everyone would know  _ everything _ . Everything about him, about his brother, about how easy it would be to take everything that Sylvain’s worked so hard to maintain.

The audience leaned forward in their seats, the disinterested host cocking an eyebrow at the long pause that Sylvain was taking. Shit. He couldn’t afford to spend any more time sorting out an answer so he took a risk and said the first thing that came to mind, an honest answer.

“Yeah, I, uh...We grew up together. For a time.” Murmurs filled the audience and Sylvain, palms clammy, set them on his thighs in order to prevent any unnecessary sweat. At this answer, Seteth looked up with intrigued eyes, “Oh, interesting. I don’t think anyone expected that rumor to be true.”

Huh. Not too bad of a reaction, Sylvain pondered. Whatever, the only thing he was concerned with was whether he left them with a positive impression or a negative one. Judging by the topics they were covering in this interview, he could tell that he’s piqued their interest. Pleasantly surprised and excited sparking within him, melding awkwardly with his anxiety, a grin found its way onto his face and for once in a long time, it didn’t feel forced.

Sylvain ran a shuddering hand through his wavy hair and decided, since being honest hadn’t failed him the first time, to take a second shot at it and observe. He chuckled, “Yeah, pretty strange, huh? The three of us took totally different routes in life and yet, we all ended up at the same agency! Kind of a miracle, really.” The more that he gazed into the host’s eyes, the more he was sure that Seteth was counting down the seconds until Sylvain’s nervous breakdown on live television.

Seteth reached for his glass of what seemed to be water, tilting his head to the side, “A miracle, you say?” Sylvain gulped, regretting his word choice, prying his eyes away from the host’s addicting gaze to settle on the blurred faces in the crowd. Though…”A miracle” is exactly what he meant to say: the truth.

Sylvain, the man so concerned with his reputation that he tried to erase his entire past to prevent even a sliver of a chance that someone would take advantage of his vulnerabilities...How funny that here he is now, discarding all the hard work he’d put into masking his past from everyone who knew him, from shoving his younger self away, to not hiding the things he’s ashamed of.

Shoulders feeling lighter, Sylvain repeated slowly, “A miracle...I think, uh, I haven’t been in the best state of mind for a long time, in my life, especially after Dimitri and Felix weren’t with me. My recruitment into the Blue Lions was recent and so was my rekindling with my old friends but even still, I already see a major impact they’ve had on me. A positive one that’ll stick with me. So yeah, a miracle.”

Seteth’s eyes widened the tiniest bit at the response, setting his glass cup down to reveal a proud smile curling onto his face. The crowd began clapping and Sylvain heard scattered cheers, suddenly overwhelmed by the warmth blooming in his chest and spreading out to the rest of his body.

He felt so content in the moment, all eyes and cameras aimed at him and recording his every move. He knew this, he knew that one little slip up could result in the loss of his job and the tragic fall of the rising star and yet, he found himself uncaring of the fact. This was how he felt, this is the truth, and this is him. 

He sunk in a deep breath and opened his eyes one more time, gazing into the suddenly gentle eyes of Seteth sitting before him. Startled, Sylvain turned to the audience and picked out every individual face after face, noticing the curve of their eyes to the sculpt of their nose and every little imperfection riddling their skin. Tears welled up in his eyes, the stage light ahead glimmering and the faint music ringing like a hopeful promise, to a better future.

Sylvain, overwhelmed and suddenly unsure of how to place his hands, reached one up to tangle in the silver chain dangling around his neck. It caught Seteth’s gaze and he perked up, squinting at the majesty of the sapphire gems, “Those are exquisitely cut! And somehow, I can’t help but think that the ring looks familiar.”

The red haired man looked down at the ring encircling his neck, peering at the silver in question with more attention to detail, “Oh, well, that’d be surprising to me. It was a gift from Dimitri, actually.” Sylvain stated, trying to trace it back to a store in particular and hoping that it wasn’t too costly.

Seteth blinked, “A ring, from Dimitri,” his words trailing as if waiting for Sylvain to explain further. With wide, confused eyes, Sylvain stared back and frowned, “Yep. ‘ _ For someone special _ ’, he said.” As the recounting of the card left his lips, the realization had hit Sylvain as if he were wading into a beach, only to be thrown back by a particularly tall wave.

God, he was an  _ idiot _ . The biggest idiot known to man, and surely the hottest too (next to Dimitri, he supposed). If everything went to shit, he knew that he had at least one thing to rely on.

Seteth, merciful Seteth, seemed to want to spare him on the details and the redhead wondered if he knew that Sylvain had realized Dimitri’s true intentions at that very moment. He started on a new topic that Sylvain, of course, navigated expertly, but the only thing on his mind for the rest of the interview was the ring hanging around his neck and how it suddenly weighed much more than before.

—

“Shouldn’t you be watching Sylvain’s interview right now?”

He shrugged, “It’s just another interview, probably nothing special—”, Dimitri jerked to a stop, Felix’s words fully processing in his head. He shook his head, grunting, “Sylvain’s interview? Why would I be watching it?”

Felix pretended as if nothing was ever said and Dimitri played into the act, more than happy than to not investigate the warmth that’s been embracing his chest for quite a bit now. His eye panned over to his cousin unwinding beside him, casually sipping on what seemed like a club soda. 

The corner of Dimitri’s mouth raised, snorting, “No wine?” Knowing exactly what thoughts passed through his cousin’s mind, Felix challenged his gaze with a glare of his own, “Yeah, well, looks like both of us here are trying something new.”

Waiting for Felix to elaborate, Dimitri frowned when the words never came. “Uh, what?”, he deadpanned, and his ink haired cousin rolled his eyes, “You’re as dense as ever, Dima.” The use of his childhood nickname acted as the knife that Felix sunk into his chest, his mocking tone twisting the blade into his flesh.

Dimitri frowned, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned toward Felix's refurbished bar counter. It just made logical sense that Felix would boast about a mini bar installed in his own home and yet decide to sip on a clear soda.

Felix swirled on the barstool to face Dimitri, his eyes crinkling as he seemed to observe him. “You’re not wearing your dad’s ring anymore.” An awkward pause settled between the two of them and Dimitri chewed on his bottom lip, fighting for his expression to remain unaffected, “Yeah.”

Not expecting such a simple answer, Felix spun back to the counter and lifted his glass to his lips. He sneered at his cousin, “Who knew the prince of the Blue Lions would want to court the coquette?” At that, Dimitri sighed, focusing his eyes on Felix and urging him, “Okay, enough. What’s on your mind?”

Irked, Felix slid his cup away and slammed a palm against the marble counter. “You and Sylvain! Obviously!” Dimitri shook his head, the hint not sinking in no matter how much Felix hammered it into his skull. Mentally drained, Felix held the bridge of his nose as if it were his last sliver of sanity and huffed, “You like him, Dima.”

Another pause.

“What?  _ Sylvain _ ? No, Felix, I—”

Felix grabbed Dimitri’s bicep, fingernails digging into the muscle, forcing him to stare into Felix’s amber eyes. “I’m not judging you, if that’s what you think. I couldn’t care less about who you fuck. Just do something about it! If you like him, say something, for God’s sake!” He nearly shouted at Dimitri’s face, scowling.

“The sexual tension around you two is so obvious and the girls were talking about it so of course I had to listen—”

Dimitri jerked back and out of Felix’s grasp, his mouth going slack and cheeks burning. “The girls were  _ what _ —”

“—and it got to a point where they started talking about the details of everything and wanted my input on it and it was  _ gross _ and I couldn’t face you and Sylvain for a few days and I’m really tired of this cat and mouse game!” Felix vented, leaving himself out of breath and a small part of him wishing he hadn’t taken it too far.

Dimitri never was one good at handling advice, especially if it came from Felix, who couldn’t control his temper or even had a filter to his words. His upbringing, after the loss of his mother and the complete mood shift of his father, drastically changed his mindset which in turn, brought even more misfortune and tragedies. Felix glanced up at Dimitri’s eyepatch, resisting a wince.

There was no one in this world who had suffered more than Dimitri, who deserved some semblance of joy, and Felix was desperate for some good in his cousin’s life. If he had to hammer it into his thick skull then so bet it, but the last thing he wanted to do was throw him into a spiral of depression.

Finally feeling tame, Felix turned to his cousin and frowned. He held his head down, his golden bangs spilling past his ears and creating a curtain over his face. Suddenly, Dimitri straightened his back and blinked, mouth agape, as if he’d been hit with an epiphany.

Felix recoiled back once his cousin jumped out of his seat, the stool staggering back and scraping harshly against his deep linoleum tiles. Too stunned to berate him, Dimitri blinked owlishly and Felix could’ve sworn he caught a light pink hue dusting his cheeks, “Felix! Forgive me, I’ll catch up with you later! I should be attending to something!”

As he stormed out of the room, Felix’s eye twitched, wondering if his efforts had been for nothing. Nonetheless, as long as Dimitri finally realized what he had to do, Felix was satisfied. 

—

The night breeze outside the apartment building was unforgiving and Sylvain’s lack of outerwear didn’t do much to assist him in keeping warm, but his face somehow kept burning all the same. Anxious, Sylvain fiddled with the ring dangling around his neck as he pressed Dimitri’s doorbell.

His father’s estate was huge—no wonder the Blaidydd house had to hire so many nurses and attendants to keep the unused rooms clean and, you know, open the door for red haired strays wandering outside close to midnight.

With that prior knowledge, Sylvain was shocked when Dimitri brought him home on the night of the event. He wasn’t going to lie, he expected a sprawling mansion like his father’s but was pleasantly surprised to be welcomed into a modestly sized penthouse. 

It was minimalistic in every sense of the word and rather lacking in color, but Dimitri’s presence marked it as home. There was no shortage of late nights that they’d stumbled inside, grabbing at one another’s clothes and hair, but Sylvain had a keen eye and still honed in on the little details that made this place so uniquely Dimitri’s.

The miniature beginner sewer’s kit marked with what looked like a lion sticker at the top stuffed in the back corner of his desk, the bottom bin in his refrigerator stuffed to the brim with wedges and wheels of fine cheeses, and the pictures hanging around the flat screen TV in his living room of what seemed to be his frigid faced relatives.

Sylvain hadn’t given much thought to the rest of Dimitri’s family, purely because he seemed like he’d rather not whenever it was brought up, but he guessed that they weren’t very close. The Blaidydd’s were, as he heard, originally a military family and very recently decided to branch out with this agency. Sure, it raked in an egregious amount of money, but there was an uncomfortable pit settling in Sylvain’s stomach that told him that perhaps it was never fully accepted by his relatives. No matter how much cash they swam in due to it.

The door swung open and Dimitri stood with wide eyes, dressed in a soft pajama set. Sylvain took a second for the little cats and stars dotting his blue pajamas to sink in, holding back a laugh. Dimitri sure grew into quite a handsome titan of a man, but that boyish charm of his always seemed to seep through. 

“Sylvain! Good evening, I, uh—” he looked down at his attire and his face flushed brightly, coughing awkwardly, “Well I can’t imagine you’d like to come in anymore, I understand. I should’ve thought in advance and now I’ve ruined the mood—”

The red haired man’s eyebrows shot up and he frantically shook his head, “Oh, no! That’s not why I’m here today!” Dimitri frowned, waiting for Sylvain to explain, and now it was his turn to flush red. He scratched the back of his head, shivering, and mumbled, “...Do you mind if I step inside first? It’s a little cold.”

Immediately, Dimitri moved out of the way and led him into the kitchen, where Sylvain couldn’t help but notice the faint scent of cinnamon and nutmeg hanging in the air. “Saghert and cream?” He guessed, and strangely, Dimitri froze up.

“Right! Saghert and cream! God, please ignore my clumsiness,” he sighed, hurrying to pile the used dishes into the sink and pulled the baked treat out of the oven, wrapping it in plastic. He whispered to himself, “This was supposed to be a surprise,” and Sylvain wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it. 

Probably for some girl Dimitri was trying to impress. Blessed with a figure like that and such a gentlemanly air about him, he was quite the catch. Sylvain’s hand unconsciously went to the ring hanging around his neck.

Dimitri’s crazed cleaning spree hadn’t taken too long and he turned back to his guest, mouth open as if to say something, until he froze up once more. “You said you were cold, didn’t you? Here, let me get you a blanket!” Stunned, Sylvain shook his head and laughed to hopefully ease his old friend, “Hey, come on, what’s gotten you so anxious all of a sudden! It’s just me!”

The blonde dropped his shoulders, sighing, “I fear that’s exactly why.” Sylvain furrowed his eyebrows, also guessing that he wasn’t supposed to hear that, but confused as to why Dimitri hadn’t even bothered to whisper it.

There was a tempest storming in his bright blue eye, the same one of the timid boy he remembers from when they were younger, and Sylvain weaved his fingers through Dimitri’s in an attempt to break him out of his trance. The blonde’s eye avoided Sylvain at any cost and he hurriedly turned away, red blooming onto his cheeks, and pointed towards the living room, “You should sit down, Sylvain. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I’ll fetch a blanket.” If Sylvain wasn’t so concerned, he definitely would have made a flirty joke concerning the poor blanket.

Dimitri walked into his room, leaving Sylvain to take a seat on one of his plush couches, hugging a throw pillow to his chest. He gazed up and caught sight of the photos hanging around the flatscreen. It was fascinating how his family almost didn’t resemble Dimitri. Sure, the blonde hair and the blue eyes remained constant and they stood strong with chins pointed to the sky and squared shoulders...But their eyes were blank, nothing like the familiar and almost boyish twinkle of Dimitri’s. 

Or maybe Sylvain was just caught up in his recent feelings for the man. He gripped the throw pillow tighter, ignoring that familiar squeeze of his heart, and looked elsewhere for something to distract him.

On the coffee table in front of him was usually a couple of magazines, a fountain pen, and a novel or two that Sylvain wondered if Dimitri actually read or if they were there for mere ornamental effect. It was funny when he thought about it—these magazines and books sitting perfect and prettily to fit a concept or an aesthetic. He felt too sick to his stomach to laugh.

Intrigued by the novel, Sylvain reached for the surprisingly lengthy hardcover and glanced at the sides to find where Dimitri’s bookmark was. He caught the edge of a taupe card peeking out, pressed in between the beginning pages. 

Disappointed with Dimitri’s apparent lack of reading, Sylvain opened the novel to where it was marked and suddenly stiffened. The bookmark was the same gold lined card he’d received with the ring and even if he tried, his gaze certainly couldn’t miss the words Dimitri had already inked in. Though shivering, a warmth bloomed from his chest and cheeks and he spied the fountain pen and tub of ink sitting conspicuously on the coffee table. 

Sylvain heard the bedroom door shut and Dimitri’s footsteps pad down the hall, holding the open novel in his hands like it was a fragile crown. Dimitri turned the corner, clutching a neatly folded mauve blanket, and he paused. For a second they both just stared at one another, observing their expressions morph in shock.

“Dimitri...What is this?” Sylvain’s voice wavered, feeling his shoulders hunch forward and chin dip until his fiery bangs tickled his cheeks. Dimitri gulped at the sight of a vulnerable and no longer playful Sylvain. He couldn’t hide the truth from his oldest friend’s eyes, just like the day they rekindled at the event. God, how the tables have turned.

Dimitri feared what the outcome would be if he didn’t say what he truly felt in this moment. If he’d lose the opportunity forever and he’d be lost in a whirl of ignorance and confusion, constantly asking himself, “what if?” With that fear guiding him forward, he gulped.

“I meant what I said. You mean a lot to me and if it’s alright with you, I’d like to be exclusive.” Sylvain impulsively snorted at this part—they were both aware of how much Sylvain cut back on the late night drinking and hook ups. His self destructive tendencies had almost completely ceased since he grew closer to the rest of the Blue Lions and, of course, began meeting Dimitri more personally. 

Nonetheless, Dimitri continued, “After seeing you again, I’ve been a better man. Less ashamed, less distant, feeling less  _ sorry for myself _ . Either way this confession goes, I’d still like for you to be in my life. Lover, friend—I just don’t wish to lose you.”

Dimitri, his eye downcast and bracing himself for a blatant rejection, grew weary at the long pause between them. Hesitant, he gazed up to see Sylvain’s eyes glassy, his hair hiding his eyes, and his shoulders shaking.

Startled, Dimitri took a seat beside him on the couch and gently gripped Sylvain’s shoulders, “God, Sylvain, I apologize! I didn’t mean for you to cry, I—I—”, but Dimitri was cut off by a sudden, and especially tight, hug. The wind was quite literally knocked right out of him as he nearly fell backward, attempting to balance himself as Sylvain secured his arms around him, as if afraid he’d disappear.

“No, Dimitri, it’s not your fault! Come on, you can be too—too  _ kind _ sometimes!” Perplexed, the blonde relaxed his own arms on Sylvain’s back, hesitantly rubbing circles into his flesh. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry?”

Sylvain barked a laugh at his apologetic tone and shook his head, tucking his nose into Dimitri’s neck. “Nah, don’t apologize. I just wanted to say that I feel the same way.”

Dimitri stilled in Sylvain’s hold, genuinely shocked as to how he possibly managed to make it this far. How it was possible for someone to find it in themselves to not wish to abandon a one eyed monster like him. He blinked and squeezed his palms into fists to check if he was truly awake, and eased into the warm press of Sylvain’s body into his own.

“I—Sylvain...” Dimitri trailed off, the dark thoughts swirling through his head and threatening to flood out his lips. Thoughts of Sylvain howling with laughter as he played him like a fiddle, of Dimitri crudely scooping out his last eye and laying it before him as a tribute, of the past week revealing to be nothing but a daydream in Dimitri’s mangled mind.

And somehow, that was enough. Sylvain knew the words that wanted to spill out of his lips and out of the gash of his fractured eye. He sat up and pressed his lips gently onto the cotton eyepatch, hoping to ease his worries, the pads of his fingers tracing stars onto his skin.

“I’m here, we’re all here for you, Dima. You can rest easy now.”

The next morning, Dimitri and Sylvain woke up in the same positions they’d slept on the couch the night previous. Though their muscles ached, their limbs tangled up with the other’s, their hearts remained warm.

—

“I bet they fucked.” Felix grumbled, staring deep into the chasm of his bubbly soda.

“Oh, definitely, like  _ rabbits _ ,” Mercedes smiled a bit too cheerfully, but it wasn’t like anyone would dare fault her for it.

Ingrid sighed, hiding her face in her hands, but it wasn’t like she disagreed so Felix counted that as an agreement.

Dedue sat, expression unchanged, but he was always like that so Felix counted that too.

Annette, of course, went completely red and physically jerked back in her stool. “This is inappropriate, Felix! We shouldn’t be talking about their, erm,  _ love making _ !” She whispered, her voice rising in pitch.

Felix debated whether it was worth it or not to argue or tease her, considering that he couldn’t get too worked up, lest the makeup literally just now applied to his face, be smudged. He was going to be the next one to be called into the studio and if something was going to get in the way of him going home early, it wasn’t going to be over Dimitri and Sylvain’s sex life.

As if on cue, the mentioned pair walked past the studio curtain. Felix spied the lipstick kiss marks on their neck and wondered if the makeup artists thought about wiping off the foundation that covered their hickies from last night as an easier alternative.

Annette gasped at the sight of them, face rosy, and she stammered, “See Felix! What if they heard you?” Look, Felix loved Annette, but it was practically his job to get angry at everyone, regardless of how much he enjoyed their singing.

To both tease and spite her, Felix called out casually, “Hey! You two fucked last night, right?”

Dimitri very obviously tensed up and his mouth fell agape, but Sylvain merely winked as a response. “Maybe,” the redhead smiled, before taking Dimitri’s hand and sauntering off to the changing rooms.

Felix let them walk away, feeling satisfied that Sylvain’s response confirmed his guess, until he saw Dedue’s eyes blow wide beside him. “The ring…” He mumbled, and Felix glanced back over his shoulder to see a silvery glint on Sylvain’s finger.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter & discord: @cloutier__ (two underscores I KNOW I HATE IT TOO)
> 
> A few fun notes:  
> \- Sylvain's eye makeup was based off of Zendaya's look in Euphoria with the glitter running down her face!  
> \- I FORGOT ASHE IM SO SORRY FOR MY MISDEEDS  
> \- This was supposed to be fluffy but purely fools in love but Dimivain calls for angst and so do I  
> \- I expected this to end up being 2K at the most I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN THIS MUCH BEFORE  
> \- Once I got thinking into more angsty ideas, I was going to add in more triggering topics like eating disorders in order to delver deeper into the Modeling universe! I left one of the original scenes, regarding eating disorders, in since it wasn't explicit enough to be marked so kudos to you if you noticed it  
> \- This is the fifth draft I've made for this fic, the other ones including: an actor au, a beauty and the beast rendition, art tutor!dimitri and Sylvain is smitten...  
> \- DIMITRI'S FAVORITE FOOD--SAGHERT AND CREAM ISNT A THING?? WHAT IS IT?? I HAD TO LOOK UP A RECIPE ONLINE SO SHOUT OUT (https://lunachai.com/blog/lets-cook-fire-emblem-saghert-and-cream)


End file.
